


Off Balance

by justalittlegreen



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: BJ loves his wife, Barebacking, Blowjobs, First Time, Fucking, His world is just bigger than that, M/M, Multi, R&R, Sex, Threesome, blowjob, bottom trapper, brief mention of tommy gillis, cocksucking, handjobs, i will die on this hill, inexperienced beej, less dark than tente a trois but not fluffy, mchunnihawk, not in the tente a trois AU, trapper wants it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:33:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 11,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23570125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justalittlegreen/pseuds/justalittlegreen
Summary: We enter mid-scene, as BJ is figuring out he's entirely bent, thanks to the mutual efforts of a jackass Trapper and a lustful Hawkeye.
Relationships: "Trapper" John McIntyre/Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce, B. J. Hunnicutt/"Trapper" John McIntyre/Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce, B. J. Hunnicutt/Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce
Comments: 12
Kudos: 45





	1. Chapter 1

Trapper kissed him before he was entirely ready for it, throwing BJ off balance. Two-day stubble roughed against his own, McIntyre's mouth hot, seeking, insistent.

Somewhere to his left, he heard Hawkeye sigh, ending in a grunt. BJ closed his eyes as McIntyre slipped a hand up the back of his head and tugged on his hair until BJ leaned back, gasping.

"I knew you liked it." John's voice was smug enough to make BJ want to hit him. "Didn't I tell ya, Hawk, that our new bunkie was as bent as they come?"

"You did, you did," Hawkeye said, his voice closer than it had been a moment ago. "What do you say, BJ? My turn? Or maybe try something else?" BJ felt a hand skimming over his fly and pressed his lips together to keep from whimpering. "Oh," Hawkeye said, his voice simultaneously cocky and delighted, "You like that, too!"

"Of course he likes that too," came Trapper's drawl. "I bet when he and the missus are in bed he asks her to turn around."

BJ's eyes flew open, his hand flying to Trapper's throat before anyone could stop him. He squeezed the sides of his neck, just enough to give him pause. "Mention my wife again," he whispered, "and I'll kill you in your sleep. Won't even strain myself."

John put his hands up. Hawkeye put a hand on BJ's shoulder and leaned in. "Let him go," he murmured. "Not because he deserves it but because he's terrifically hung, and it'd be a loss for all humanity. I'd hate to lose him before I see you have a chance with it."

"Deal," Trapper rasped. "Heard and acknowledged. Uncle. Nothing on the wife."

BJ released him with a glare. "That's the last I hear anything about her from you."

"Understood," Trapper said. "Jesus, you're fucking crazy."

Hawkeye stepped behind BJ and slid one hand up his shirt and one down over his pants. "What does tell you," he murmured, rubbing circles through the curls on BJ's chest, "that watching you get all defensive turns both of us on?"

"Speak for yourself," Trap muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. 

"Oh, I was," Hawkeye replied. "When I said _both of us,_ I wasn't talking about you." 

BJ gently took each of Hawk's wrists in a hand and pulled him away. "Sorry, I don't think I'm in the mood." 

Hawkeye came around his front. "You sure?" he asked, eyes flitting down. "Your head might not be in the mood, Dr. Hunnicutt, but," he cupped a hand against the still-evident bulge in BJ's pants, "the rest of you has other ideas. C'mon," he added, leaning in to whisper as McIntyre stalked off across the tent. "Forget him. I've been wanting to get on my knees for you ever since I saw this bad boy threatening to bust out of your seams at the O-club."

BJ bristled, still irritated. Hawkeye cupped a hand around the back of his head and bent to kiss his neck, strategically turning BJ around, as if leading him in a dance. "Don't let him ruin it," he soothed. "Come to bed with me. Let me show you what you've been missing all these years."

BJ grabbed Hawkeye's wrists for a second time and slowly pulled his arms down until he had Hawkeye's hands pinned at his sides. "I. Love. My. Wife," he said.

Hawkeye held his gaze for a long beat. "Of course you do," he said softly. "She's magnificent, isn't she?"

"How would you know?" BJ hissed. "Or do you have a wife, too?"

Hawkeye shook his head, smiling a little at his feet. "No. No. And I don't do married women. And I wouldn't do married men except..."

"Except what? How, exactly is it different?"

Hawkeye looked up. "It's different because with men, being with them is the only time either of us get to be ourselves. And so help me if I can't begrudge myself that opportunity, Beej. I know it makes me weak, but at least it's honest."

"But I am myself with her," BJ protested.

"Sure. And there's a part of me that really loves chasing nurses. Really, I do! But - " Hawkeye stopped and gently worked his wrists out of BJ's grip and put his arms around him. BJ held himself stiffly until Hawkeye ran a finger up his spine and his knees nearly buckled. He felt, rather than heard, the grin in Hawkeye's voice, " - but I can't show this part of me to them. And you can't show this part of you to your wife. You're still honest; I don't think you could be anything else, Beej. You tell nothing but the truth. But it's not the whole truth." Hawkeye kissed his neck again. "You saying I'm wrong?"

BJ responded by putting his hands on Hawkeye's hips and pulling him closer. Hawkeye groaned into his neck, his hips pushing against BJ's. "That's it," he gasped as BJ slid a hand down to squeeze and pull him closer. "Fuck, you can have me," he babbled as BJ nipped at his neck and gripped him tight enough to bruise. "I'll do anything for you. You can do anything you want to me, anything you ever dreamed of - things you respect her too much to do to her."

BJ let him go and stepped back just far enough to grab the front of Hawkeye's shirt. "Not here," he growled. "Where can we get away from him?"


	2. Chapter 2

Trapper sighed as Hawkeye led Hunnicutt out of the tent, half hoping Hawk would be shameless enough to suck Hunnicutt off in front of him. He palmed his own erection through his shorts and closed his eyes, building the scene in his head. Hawk could sit on the end of the cot, his face buried in a standing Hunnicutt's crotch, who could use one hand to balance himself on the clipboard bar, and the other to guide Hawk's head up and down.

He bet Hunnicutt was the kind of guy who'd trained himself to come in absolute silence. A good boy like that. He'd probably been in Boy Scouts, probably thought rubbing one out would make him grow hair on his palms. And that 'unnatural desires' were a straight ticket to the hot zone. 

In his mind, Trapper heard Hawkeye gag, just slightly. The memory of the sound made his cock jump. And then, somewhat surprisingly, the Hunnicutt in his mind said, "Take it deeper, Hawk. Swallow it like you want it." 

It might not square with his image of the guy, but it was definitely enough to get him off.


	3. Chapter 3

Hawkeye led the way to a ramshackle Quonset hut at the edge of camp and lit a small oil lamp on the floor. In the windowless room, BJ made out a cot stacked with two mattresses, a chair, and a trash can. Hawkeye retrieved a small wooden crate from under the cot and pulled out a bottle. He took a long pull and handed it over to BJ.

"It's not the usual stuff," he said, gasping as the fire hit his chest. "Better."

BJ took a swig. Scotch. Almost drinkable, even. He corked the bottle and stuck it back in the crate, examining the box of surgical gloves and a couple of what looked like ointment tubes. Hawkeye slipped the cover back on the crate before he could get closer. 

"Later," Hawkeye promised, with a smile BJ couldn't place. "I have other plans for you first." He came around and wrapped his arms loosely around BJ's neck, swishing his hips just enough for BJ to feel the bulge in his pants brush his fly. Hawkeye leaned in until their foreheads met, their breath hot between them. 

"Kiss me," Hawk whispered. BJ complied. Hawk tasted like Scotch and lust, his tongue dipping into BJ's mouth more tentatively than the way Trapper had kissed him. BJ circled his arms around Hawkeye's thin frame and tasted him back, feeling Hawkeye's full-body shudder against him and suddenly understanding what John McIntyre so loved about seeing him wrecked and wanting. Hawkeye matched his intensity, reaching a hand up into his hair and gripping it. BJ groaned into his mouth. Hawk gasped and released his hold, placing his palm flat against BJ's chest and catching his breath. 

"Not - not the way I wanna go - " he managed, smiling up at BJ. "You really know how to take a man apart."

BJ blushed. "You're just easy," he shot back.

Hawkeye beamed at him. "You just make me look easy," he countered, "but I want to last long enough for you to enjoy it."

Hawkeye beckoned BJ over to the cot in the corner and threw one of the mattresses down to the side. "We don't use the cot except to store the mattresses a little higher than cockroach level," he explained. "Well, except like this." He sat down on the cot and crooked a finger at BJ. "Come closer. I _will_ bite, but I'm not gonna hurt you."

BJ stepped into the space between his splayed knees and waited. Hawkeye wasted no time in undoing his belt and unbuttoning his fly. "I'm so glad I get to be first," Hawk said with more than a little glee. "He's going to be so jealous." 

BJ had been too momentarily caught up in his thoughts to maintain an erection, but as soon as Hawkeye touched him - even through his shorts - he felt himself grow hard under Hawk's skilled fingers. 

"That's it," Hawkeye murmured, as if BJ were performing some difficult OR stitch. "Oh, that's it, Beej, you need it, don't you. When was the last time you got your cock properly sucked?"

BJ paused long enough that Hawkeye looked up. "BJ?"

"Um," BJ suddenly wanted to hide. "Never?"

He half expected Hawk to laugh at him, but, if it was possible, Hawkeye's eyes grew simply more delighted. "I get to be your first?" he breathed. "Oh _Beej._ I'm so glad you told me."


	4. Chapter 4

BJ blushed. "I - ah- I really meant it when I said I was honest with my wife."

Hawk took one of BJ's hands in both of his. "I know you were. But - and you don't have to tell me - ask yourself if you've really REALLY never considered this before. Not even in a dream over which you have no say?"  
BJ's jaw dropped. "I'm not sure where you got that from - "

Hawk grinned. "Does it make it better if I promise you're not the only one?"

BJ shrugged. 

"What happened in your dream?"

BJ blushed even harder and shook his head. "Nope. What happens in my dreams stays in my dreams, Hawk."

"Wellll," Hawkeye drawled, returning his attention to BJ's shorts, "let's see if I can top it, whatever it was." He pulled BJ's shorts halfway down his hips and groaned with delight. "Close your eyes and think of the army if you want," he said, so close BJ could feel his warm breath on his skin. "But I think it's better if you look." 

BJ would never forget the sight of Hawkeye's mouth descending on his cock, or the feeling of his tongue. He'd thought nothing could be better than Peg's warm body opening for him, her legs spread and wrapped around his waist, but it was nothing like this. Hawkeye sucked and lapped, and drooled all over him, making slick strokes on whatever inch his mouth couldn't hold.

BJ's head spun as he instinctively grabbed Hawkeye's hair for balance. He must've tugged more firmly than he intended, because Hawkeye nearly screamed around his cock, and promptly choked. BJ let go immediately, terrified, as Hawk came up for air, coughed, wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, then looked up at BJ with watery eyes.

"How'd that feel?" he asked, coughing again.

"Hawk, I'm so sorry - "

"Yeah, yeah, I know. But tell the truth," he said, eyebrows waggling, "feels pretty good, doesn't it?" He closed his hand around the tip of BJ's cock and squeezed it gently, mimicking the feel of what BJ realized was his throat spasming around his cock. BJ shut his eyes, cock leaking into Hawkeye's hand.

"Yeah," he said. "Yeah, but not if it makes you gag. I'm not cleaning up any messes I don't make here."

Hawkeye laughed and drew his hand down to the base of BJ's cock. "Here. I'll put a stop measure in place, and you can jerk my head around all you want." 

"Really?"

Hawk replied by taking BJ's hand and placing it back on top of his head before diving back in.

Hawkeye hadn't had the pleasure of giving someone their first-ever blow job since he and Tommy Gillis struck that mutual first off each others' lists in his childhood treehouse somewhere around senior year. He threw everything he had into it, hollowing his cheeks, sucking tight and hard, taking BJ as deep as he could go. BJ tugged at his hair and tried to stay quiet, but every escaped gasp and whimper built a lust-filled symphony in Hawkeye's head. He couldn't even take a moment to touch himself, though the tent he was pitching was starting to chafe. He needed to make this BJ Hunnicutt's best memory of Korea, maybe his best memory of sex.

BJ panted and leaned over Hawkeye to brace one hand against the wall. Hawkeye leaned back to accommodate, and almost landed on his back. 

"You okay?" he asked, taking a breath and stroking BJ without missing a beat. 

"I'm not sure I'm okay upright much longer," BJ said with a grin. "You're really doing a number on me."

"What number?" Hawkeye asked. "Scale of 1-10."

BJ rolled his eyes. "Nineteen."

"Damn," Hawk muttered, leaning back on his elbows and frowning at BJ's crotch. "I'd have thought I was at least a 22."

"Hawk?"

Hawkeye looked up. "Did anybody ever tell you you're beautiful when you're nervous?"

"Shut up, Hawk."

"What is it? You okay?"

"Yeah, I just - could I see you?"

Hawkeye looked himself up and down. "I'm all here, Beej."

BJ ducked. "Not what I meant."

"Ah. You showed me yours now I show you mine?"

"Very funny."

"No, no," Hawkeye said earnestly. "I was going to save it for later, but I'm flattered. Here, let's change angles." BJ stepped away and Hawkeye turned to lie down on the cot, hitching his pants and shorts over his hips, stopping at his knees. "Forgot to take my boots off," he said cheerfully. "This is as good as you're gonna get. Have a good look."

BJ was already staring. "Hawk," he breathed. "That looks almost painful."

Hawkeye chuckled gently, "I blame you," he teased. "Don't worry about me. I can take care of this later."

BJ looked him in the eye. "And if I want to?


	5. Chapter 5

"You sure?" The words were out before Hawkeye could consider them. 

"I don't know if I'm any good at it, but," BJ knelt next to the cot on the spare mattress and reached over, walking his fingertips across Hawkeye's hip. Hawkeye let out a whimper and clapped a hand over his eyes.

"If you - " he gasped as BJ stroked a few featherlight touches on his stomach, " - touch me, I'm going to - I can't - "

"I want you to," BJ whispered, hand poised over his cock, admiring the way Hawkeye trembled beneath him, cock swollen and dripping against his stomach. "I want to see, Hawk. Will you show me?"  
Hawkeye grasped for a witty retort and only came up with, "Please."

It was easy - not entirely familiar, but BJ's hand fell into a comfortable grip as he wrapped his fingers around Hawkeye. Hawk lifted the hand off his eyes and looked down, seemingly in disbelief, for a moment, before the words began to spill out of him.

"Just like that, oh Gd, I can't believe I've got your hands on me; your hands are so good, so good, Beej, please, don't stop, just keep touching me like - like that, just like that."

BJ picked up speed, feeling a heady rush of power. He did that. He made Hawkeye look like that, sound like that - he was going to make Hawkeye Pierce come apart. He turned and slid his free arm under Hawkeye's neck, holding him as best he could, while unable to join him on the narrow cot. 

"Get over here," he whispered. "C'mere, Hawk, let me kiss you."

Hawkeye sat up, and BJ rose up on his knees to meet him, his hand between them, still stroking. He kept his hand on the back of Hawkeye's head and pulled him in close. Almost immediately, Hawkeye began crying out into BJ's mouth, hips jerking, his hands gripping BJ's back. BJ held him through it, trying to see without pulling away, staying with him, pressing his forehead to Hawkeye's and whispering, "Yes, that's it, yes." He felt Hawkeye spilling into his hand, his hard breath on BJ's neck. 

The way he still clung.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another day, another time. All these seem to start mid-scene, but I'm sure you can imagine what comes before.

"I'm serious, Trap," Hawkeye said, stepping in front of BJ and poking a finger at McIntyre's chest. "One stupid comment, one flip answer, and you're outta here. If I so much as even smell sarcasm on your breath, you can go nurse your blue balls in the next room while you listen to us break the bed."

Trapper looked like he was about to tell Hawkeye off, but changed his mind. "I'll be good, /Mother/," he sneered. "Now c'mon. This boy's got a lot of catching up to do."

Hawkeye grinned. He reached behind him and pulled BJ's arms around his waist, wriggling his hips against BJ's fly. "I'll say - whoa now," he said as BJ slid a hand down his front and grabbed the emerging bulge in his pants. "Easy there, Beej, we're just getting started."

"That we are," BJ said smoothly, giving Hawkeye a squeeze that made him sigh, "but I think I've learned enough right now. What's the saying in med school? See one...like watching you two go at it across the damn tent every other night. And then it's do one, so, we've got that covered. But then you've gotta teach one, don't you? And I think there's a thing or two I can show Trapper John here that he might've overlooked these last 18 months."

rapper smirked. "And uh, what is it you think you've discovered in the..." he checked his watch, "two and a half minutes since you've arrived?"

"Trap," Hawkeye warned. 

"It's a fair question!" Trapper said. "You tell me, Hawk - is there any stone we've left upturned in all our, uh - many adventures?"

Hawkeye looked uncomfortable. BJ's hands moved to his hips and steadied themselves there. Trapper looked wildly from Hawkeye's face to BJ's. "What. What is it."

Now it was BJ's turn for a little smile. "Hawk tells me you never, uh, let him pitch," he said with all the smugness of a cat with a canary in its teeth. "And I think you're missing out, John."

John choked. "That's not for you to say. Hawk likes how we operate. Doncha, Hawk?" He kicked himself for the last line and how desperate it made him sound.

Hawk smiled at him reassuringly. "I do, Trap. It's just a more...limited repertoire. Nothing wrong with the classics."

"There. Y'see?" Trapper glared at BJ. 

BJ responded by whispering something in Hawkeye's ear that made his eyes roll back in his head. "Well," he said over Hawkeye's shoulder, "I guess it's time for you to watch one."

Trap watched. His jaw practically fell off when he saw Hawkeye work BJ's shorts over his hips and lie him down, crawling up between BJ's legs, casually slipping one shoulder into the crook of BJ's bent knee. 

BJ closed his eyes and shuddered as Hawkeye slicked two fingers and worked them in. Trapper couldn't believe the way Hawk looked - every ounce the self possessed surgeon, calmly and confidently taking his colleague to pieces. 

It was a far cry from the trembling wreck Trapper knew from his own bed. And while he'd never show his belly like that, he could practically feel Hawkeye's hands, as if they were on his own body. The thought made him hard, almost against his will, as he watched Hawk deftly stroking, pressing in and out as Hunnicutt whined and begged for more.

How could Hunnicutt just - do that? Spread his legs and - Trapper's cock twitched, even as he shuddered in disgust - take it on his back like that? With Hawk, it was always up on his knees, and Trapper able to pretend, in at least some way, that this was just what army buddies did to help each other through. As long as he didn't have to look, or touch, it was easy enough to pretend that they were pretending.

As if Hawk was just another hole, and Trapper just another fuck.

Hawkeye was moving now, leaning far over BJ's torso. Trapper lay on his side in the other bed, blankets pulled up past his hips so neither of them would notice the effect their little show was having. Hawk whispered something into BJ's chest that Trapper couldn't catch and then BJ whispered, "yes, yes, YES damnit."

Hunnicutt swore and gasped as Hawkeye slowly entered him, mumbling reassurances and breathing deeply. Trapper didn't make the conscious decision to do so, but merely discovered his hand had somehow slipped into his shorts without permission. What would it be like to see Hawk's face in that moment of give, of yield, as he opened to let Trapper in?

A long, guttural moan shook him from his thoughts. Hunnicutt's face was taut, tilted back, sweat breaking over him as he grasped at Hawkeye. "Yes," he said, breathlessly. "Oh _fuck,_ Hawk, just like that, give me more, let me take all of you."

Hunnicutt gasped as Hawkeye stilled over him, then bent to kiss him thoroughly before he started moving again. Hunnicutt panted, reaching down between them, John assumed, to get himself off. What surprised him was Hawkeye's reaction, going after him and pulling BJ's hand away, pinning that wrist above his head. John's eyebrows shot up. Where did Hawk get /that/ move?

"Uh-uh," Hawkeye said, teasing BJ with kisses on his cheeks and neck. "Don't be sneaky. Ask for what you want."

 _Ask for what you want._ John's head felt like it was about to fall off. He and Hawk - they didn't talk like this. It was bad enough, what he did to Hawk when they were alone together. But to make him say it out loud? To make him beg? That would just be cruelty.

Hunnicutt, though, didn't seem to mind. His face twisted into a grimace, and then a chuckle as he squirmed under Hawkeye's grip.

"Don't leave me hanging, you jerk," he said. 

"I didn't hear anything that sounded like a request in that," Hawkeye shot back, tilting his hips slightly and thrusting harder in a way that made Hunnicutt's eyes roll back in his head. John grinned. He knew what Hawk was doing, had done it to Hawkeye many times. He loved being able to make Hawk speechless like that. Considering it for his own pleasure, however, had always been out of the question.

Trapper John now had some questions.

"Touch me, Hawk." BJ's voice dropped a solid octave and took on a commanding tone that seemed more familiar to Trapper. He couldn't see all of Hawkeye's face, but it was clear something had shifted. BJ wrested his arm easily out of Hawkeye's grip, slipped a hand around the back of Hawkeye's neck and pulled him in closer, lifting his hips up a little bit further. 

Hawkeye, still being Hawkeye, in spite of these new revelations, let him.

"Say it again," Hawkeye muttered, his voice thick with lust. "And maybe I'll consider it."

BJ canted his hips up sharply, making them both groan. "Touch me," he repeated sternly, pumping his hips with each phrase, "Fuck me. Touch me. Make me come with you. Take me with you, Hawk." His voice descended into a choked growl as Hawkeye reached down between them with his now, free hand. "Oh, fuuuck," Hunnicutt groaned. "That's it, Hawk, just like that."

"Oh, you really like this, don't you?" Hawkeye said, all the teasing gone from his voice as he attempted to thrust and stroke BJ simultaneously with only moderate success. "Tell me, is it because he's watching? Are you thinking about him?" he demanded, as if Trapper wasn't even in the room. 

Trapper rolled his face into the pillow and buried it there, stroking furiously.

"Augh - yeah - I am," BJ answered between gasps. "I bet he's over there getting off on it right now, wishing he could have you. Wishing he could let himself feel this /fucking/ good. Don't you, Trapper?"

"Fuck you, Hunnicutt," Trap hissed, trying to conceal the fact that he was on the edge of falling apart, in front of _these two_ of all people.

"I might - let you - sometime," BJ managed. "Oh fuck, oh fuck, Hawk, don't stop, please, don't - "

"Hold on juuust a second," Hawkeye sooothed. 

"I can't!" BJ cried, his breathing hoarse and deep as he came with a shout. It took Hawk another two thrusts to follow, the two of them rutting into each other, BJ reaching around to clasp Hawk to his chest. 

In the stillness that followed, Trapper couldn't hide the smallest of grunts that preceded his own release and spilled into his fingers, his face hot and flushed, still ducked into the pillow.


	7. Chapter 7

Hawkeye and BJ waited a few minutes, holding each other, letting their hearts slow. Trapper froze beneath the blanket, not wanting to move, wanting to be anywhere else in the world. Finally, he heard movement from the other bed, soft grunts and at least one cheerful slap and resulting yelp, followed by what sounded like Hawkeye blowing a raspberry. He'd bet anything that Hunnicutt had reached out as Hawkeye was walking away. He'd succumbed to that temptation once or twice.

Trapper rolled over and squinted, his eyes barely open, just enough for him to watch Hawkeye sashay into the bathroom and close the door. 

"You don't know what you're missing," came BJ's voice from the other bed.

"Shut up," Trapper answered, but there was more exhaustion in his voice than malice. He heard BJ get up, and then watched in alarm as he flopped down beside Trapper, causing Trap to nearly bounce out of the bed. 

"If you keep making that face, your face will get stuck like that," Hunnicutt said, obnoxiously cheerful and more than a little smug.

Trapper, at a loss for anything else to do, stuck out his tongue. 

Hunnicutt leaned in. "You know what I feel right now?"

"I don't care."

BJ closed his eyes and shivered a moment. "He's leaking out of me. Sometimes, I take a minute before I clean up, just to feel it. Mmmph."

Trapper felt the peculiar sensation of a flash of arousal at the same time he nearly gagged. "That's disgusting, Hunnicutt. At least have him wrap it up if you're going to..." he couldn't bring himself to say it.

BJ fluttered his eyelashes. "Maybe YOU like having a nice little barrier between the two of you, but some of us like to FEEL the person we're with."

"Maybe SOME of us are interested in hygiene. Some things aren't meant to - you know what, forget it."

"Speak for yourself, John," Hunnicutt said. "Some of us aren't afraid to get close."

"And what's 'close' gonna get ya anyway?" Trapper snarled. "A blue discharge, maybe some years in the stockade?"

BJ shrugged. "Like what you do will get you less?"

 _It's not safe,_ Trapper nearly said, the words caught at the tip of his tongue. But Hunnicutt was right. The army wouldn't note the difference between buddies helping each other through a lonely time and...whatever it was Hawk had going with Hunnicutt. It'd be all the same to them. 

"Leave me alone," Trapper muttered, rolling over and trying to pull the blankets with him. "'M gonna get some sleep, finally."

There was a long pause. 

"Don't you want to clean up?" BJ asked. 

"If I wasn't this tired, I'd punch you in the mouth," John answered.

"Suit yourself." BJ got up and went back to the other bed. He sat down on the edge and fished around for his shorts. Hawkeye came out of the bathroom, scrubbed clean and whistling, but stopped abruptly as he came around the bed. 

"He sleeping?" Trapper heard him whisper.

"Only by force of will," BJ answered with a sigh. "I'm gonna go shower. Why don't you - you should sleep with him."

There was no answer, but in another minute, Trapper felt the lanky familiarity of Hawkeye's body behind him. 

"C'mere, Trap," he whispered. "C'mon."

He tugged at Trapper's chest, pulling himself in closer. Trapper resisted, his shoulders tense. "Shhh," Hawkeye soothed, rubbing a hand over his chest, down his stomach. Trapper flinched as Hawk got near a dry, sticky patch of skin. 

"S'okay, Trap," he whispered again. "S'okay."

When Trapper finally fell asleep, it was with Hawkeye's arm around him, the warmth of his snore filling his ears and blocking out everything else.

*

Hawkeye woke to the sound of BJ panting in short, rhythmic bursts. He rolled over to get away from the sound, and from the sunlight threatening to creep into the room when he felt someone tug at his shoulder. 

"Where you goin?" came Trapper's sleepy voice. He was always at his most affectionate after a night of sleep - something they got all too rarely. "C'mere."  
Hawkeye reached behind him and tugged Trapper's arm over his waist and hugged him close. 

"S'Hunnicutt doin'?" Trapper murmured. "Kinda early for that."

"Pushups," Hawkeye mumbled. "Fucking masochist."

"Or sadist. Hey, Hunnicutt, quit masturbating!" Trapper called.

Hawkeye burst into giggles, remembering something Radar had told him about Basic Training and the unbearably creaky cots. 

"I'm _exercising_ " BJ huffed from the other side of the room. "You remember exercise, right, Trapper? It's that thing that happens when you're chasing a nurse and she drags you clear across the compound?"

"Har-de-har-har," Trap answered. "Whatever you're doing, knock it the fuck off and go back to bed like a normal human being."

"Can't do that," Hawkeye and BJ answered in the same breath. Hawk burst out laughing and sat up in bed and pointed at BJ, sweating in his boxer shorts and still doing pushups on the floor. "Does that look like a normal human being to you?"

No, Trapper had to admit, men who strutted around like bronzed gods of California certainly did not qualify as normal human beings. Not that he'd ever noticed.

BJ hopped up from his position on the floor and came around to Hawkeye's side of the bed. "Are you two going to stay there all day?" he demanded, hands on his hips. "I know I, for one, was planning to have an actual vacation. You know, go places. Do things."

Trapper buried his head under the covers and stuck out one hand to flip BJ the bird. Hawkeye just looked him up and down all but licking his lips.

"Yes?" BJ said impatiently. 

"Yes, nothing," Hawkeye said. "You can't just stand there _glistening_ like that and expect me not to want to lick you."

"That's disgusting," BJ and Trapper said at once. Trapper angrily flipped the covers back and glared. "Don't steal my lines, Hunnicutt."

"Hardly much of a line," BJ muttered. "Anyway, I'm going to take a shower." He turned to go. Hawkeye's hand flashed out from under the blanket and caught his wrist, tugging him back toward the bed.

"No sense in getting clean when you're doing such dirty things in my head," he said. "I may want to lick you all over but I'll settle for the short end of the stick. C'mon, Beej," he whined. "When else am I going to get the chance?"

"Hawk," BJ protested, "Come on, I'm not even thinking about that - "

"Liar." Hawk smirked. "Just because you're not in the mood right this second doesn't mean you can't be in two minutes. Give me two minutes to change your mind." 

"You might as well," came a muffled voice from under the covers. "I don't know if you know this, Hunnicutt, but he's a persistent fucker when he gets like this."

"Fine." BJ crossed his arms and raised and eyebrow. "Two minutes." He willed himself to think of anything - the mailman, the dog licking his face, the street map of Tokyo. 

Hawk sat up, peeled BJ's shorts over his hips and leaned in. 

Damnit.

Nobody but Hawkeye Pierce could smirk with a mouthful of cock, but damn, could he ever.

*

Hawkeye closed his eyes and drew as deep a breath as he could. BJ's hands worked gently into his hair, sending a thrill down his spine. How _did_ BJ smell so good? Hawkeye wanted to mop him off with a pillow case so he could fall asleep in that smell. 

"Seriously?" came Trapper's voice from the other side of the bed. "That's how this is going to go, is it? With the two of you just - any time? anywhere?"

Hawkeye pulled off BJ's cock with a lascivious pop. "Well, Trap," he said, pausing to lick BJ's entire length, "If you don't wanna play, you don't have to." 

"And who said I didn't?" Trapper sounded defensive.

"Well, you, for starters," BJ said. "But I bet if you asked nicely, we'd find a spot for you in - oh _Hawk_!" BJ shuddered as Hawkeye's mouth enveloped him again. 

"Ask you? Listen, _Beej_ I was here long before you, and I'm - "

"Currently not getting any," BJ cut in smoothly. "But," he ran a hand over Hawkeye's hair, tracing a thumb behind his ear, "I'm sure Hawkeye wouldn't mind getting some while he's busy up here, would you, Hawk?"

Hawkeye groaned and tightened his grip on BJ's ass. BJ looked down and smiled. "I think it's fair to say he likes that idea," he said lightly.

"Fuck you," Trapper muttered, his eyes fixed on Hawkeye's mouth. "And what if I want his mouth?"

BJ shrugged. "Too bad for you? Of course, you could always ask even more nicely, and I might switch."

Hawkeye shuddered at the idea of being pinned between the two of them. It had only happened once, but the memory of it was...a reliable one.

"Better make up your mind before I make up mine," BJ continued. "You in, McIntyre?"

"You gonna ask Hawkeye what he thinks about this?" Trapper asked, reaching for a way to stall.

BJ responded by crooking a finger under HAwkeye's chin, lifting it up, and looking him in the eye. Trapper couldn't see Hawkeye's face, but after a few seconds, BJ said simply, "Nah."

Hawkeye let out a guttural noise that Trapper had only previously heard in far more physically intense circumstances.

BJ moved quickly, settling himself with his back against the headboard, planting his feet, knees spread. 

"That's it," he said as Hawkeye scrambled between them, lying on his stomach and nuzzling BJ's thighs before getting back to sucking him off. BJ waved a hand magnanimously. "Back end's all yours, McIntyre." 

Trapper tried not to let his hands shake as he grabbed the tube from the nightstand and slicked up his fingers. For a moment, he entertained a vision of pulling Hawkeye away and wrestling BJ into submission. The blonde might be broader built, but John liked a good set of pushups just as much - and had the muscle to probe it. He thought about pinning BJ down, about taking him face-up, instead of on his knees, making him watch as Trapper pushed slowly into - 

A gasp from BJ took his concentration. Hunnicutt had slumped down from his seat, raising his hips in the process. And there was Hawkeye's hand, doing for Hunnicutt exactly what Trapper was about to do to him. He hurried back into place, nudging Hawkeye at the knees almost gently, waiting for Hawk to raise his hips up and spread his legs enough.

He knew from experience how it felt to have Hawkeye moaning on his cock. From the looks of it, it didn't seem as though Hunnicutt had yet. John smirked as he worked his fingers in, enjoying the muffled grunts and half-gags coming from the other end of the bed.

BJ gentled Hawkeye through the stretch, working his fingers through Hawk's hair and murmuring encouraging things down toward his ears. Hawk stopped sucking to gasp for air, arching his back and involuntarily curling the two fingers buried inside BJ. 

"You're even easier than you used to be." Trapper's voice was teasing, but warm, taking the edge off the words. "Took my fingers right down to the knuckle, didn't even fight. How about that? Must be all that practice with your new boyfriend."

Hawkeye muffled a groan into BJ's thigh. "You're not exactly slim pickings," he muttered. "I got enough practice taking that monster of yours." He looked back up at BJ happily. "Just my luck, I find two of you."

BJ grinned. "You, uh, wanna finish what you started?" he asked, gesturing to his neglected erection. Hawkeye rolled his eyes affectionately and started slowly, sucking just the sensitive head into his mouth and swirling his tongue over the top. BJ shuddered and tugged on Hawkeye's hair. "Fuuuck," he muttered. "That mouth of yours is going to kill me."

Suddenly, Hawkeye had him half-swallowed, moan after choking moan warming BJ's cock as McIntyre began to fuck him. BJ checked Trapper's face through half-open eyes, noting how tightly Trapper was gripping Hawkeye's hips, the determined look on his face. He didn't speak, lips clamped shut as he worked Hawkeye's ass over, Hawkeye, as usual, making more than enough noise for the both of them.

"You're so good, Hawk," BJ said, a little louder than usual to cover Trapper's pointed silence. "Fuck, you feel so good - you know just what I need, don't you? Just like that. Juuust like that, oh _fuck_ , Hawk I'm so close. Where do - where do you want - " he stammered as he started losing his breath. Hawkeye pulled his mouth off BJ's cock and stroked wildly, curling his fingers and seeking the spot that would unravel him. 

Just then, rather unexpectedly, Hawkeye felt a hand on his own cock. Trapper's fingers curled around him, slick with felt less like lubricant and more like spit. The thought of Trapper spitting into his hand and grabbing him sent Hawkeye over the edge, ducking his head, his hands stuttering and losing focus. It didn't matter - BJ came on the spot, streaking Hawkeye's back, his hair, even the back of the hand that was still halfway buried inside him. 

BJ flopped back bonelessly, easing himself off of Hawkeye's fingers. Hawkeye looked dazed and languid, barely holding his hips up as Trapper continued to fuck him like nothing had happened.

Hawkeye's head hung down in the space between his arms as he panted softly, his breaths taking on a distinct edge in the aftermath as John continued - a little harder than BJ would, he thought, slowly muscling himself back to sitting upright. He tried to catch John's eye, but Trapper's gazed was fixed down at Hawkeye's back, still wet with BJ's come. 

Without knowing exactly where he was taking it, BJ reached down and swiped a finger across Hawkeye's back. He watched Trapper's gaze follow him. In the same slow, deliberate way, he brought the finger back up to his face and slipped it into his mouth, pulling it out with a smack. 

Trapper's eyes were dark as he picked up the pace. BJ reached over again, two fingers this time, got to his knees and crawled to the end of the bed where Trapper stood, Hawkeye's hips on the bed meeting his perfectly. BJ held out his fingers with a look that dared Trapper to duck. He tried to anyway.

Within a moment, BJ's dry hand was wrenched into Trapper's hair, his fingers insistently at his lips, giving him one more chance. 

Trapper bit him. 

BJ yelped and yanked at his hair, and in that moment, Trapper loosened and relaxed as he came apart, only BJ's grip on his hair keeping him from falling over Hawkeye, grunting around BJ's fingers. 

Hawkeye finally turned his head around and gawked as he realized what was going on.

"Oh, Trap," he said, as BJ slipped an arm across Trapper's front and held him firmly against his chest. "You're a goner, aren't you? Don't worry," he added, slowly working himself off Trapper's softening cock, turning around, and folding his hands behind his head. "You're not the first. And I'm going to LOVE watching this."

*

Trapper limply shook his head. BJ let him go and Trapper quietly sat on the edge of the bed, elbows resting on his knees, head in his hands.

Hawkeye scrambled up to get next to him, and put an arm around. "Hey," he said softly. "You okay?"

Trapper looked away. "I need a shower," he said.

"Okay, that's okay - you go, go shower," Hawkeye babbled. Trapper staggered to his feet and shuffled off. Hawkeye and BJ watched him go.

"Damnit, Hawk," BJ muttered, sitting down next to him and dropping a head on his shoulder. "I really fucked up, didn't I?"

"It's possible," Hawkeye admitted. "But with him, it's hard to tell. And he acted just like this after our first time."

BJ lifted his head. "He did?"

"Mhmm. Didn't talk to me for about two days. I was hoping he'd gotten over the habit."

"Oof," BJ said sympathetically. "Hey, I don't know about you, but I need to wash up, too." 

Hawk nodded. "Give me a second." He slipped into the bathroom, emptying a cloud of steam into the room, and returned shortly with a wet washcloth and a fresh towel for each of them. They cleaned themselves up in silence, each lost in their thoughts. Hawkeye put a pair of shorts and a tshirt on, and BJ followed suit. After a moment, Hawkeye went into Trapper's duffel bag, fished out the same for him, and stuck them on the bathroom sink.

Trapper came out of the bathroom dressed, hair dripping, skin ruddy and warm. He went over to the bed BJ had slept in - the now vastly cleaner one - and climbed in, curled up in the center. Hawkeye and BJ exchanged a glance. Hawkeye tentatively went to sit on one side of the bed, put a hand on Trapper's shoulder. 

"You want company?" he asked. 

Trapper pulled back the blanket to let him in. Hawkeye settled in as John slipped an arm around his waist. 

"Room for me?" came BJ's voice from the other side of the bed. Trapper gestured vaguely to the narrow spot, and BJ crawled in.

None of them slept, but the silence and stillness that followed was a restful one.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trapper comes to grips with what he wants. Hawkeye comes back from R&R.

"No," John gasped, shaking his head. "This isn't happening." 

"Okay, okay," BJ's voice rushed to soothe, smoothing a hand across his cheek, thumbing Trapper's furrowed forehead. "Another time."

"I don't think time is going to help," Trapper said. "You're too fucking big. You'll split me in half with that thing, is what you're gonna do."

"Easy," BJ said. "Look, we ran out of lube. That's the real problem. I'll grab more on my next shift and bring it back to the Swamp and -"

Trapper shook his head. 

"Okay," BJ said, leaning to drop a kiss on John's cheek before remembering not to. _I'm not that kind of guy, Hunnicutt. Don't give me the mushy stuff._ "We're just gonna have to wait until Hawkeye gets back, then."

John considered it. Letting BJ take him like this was one thing - but Hawk, who'd spent the first half of the war squirming under him and whimpering, all breath and bliss? Hawkeye who'd melt at the first sign of attraction? Trap didn't know if either of them could handle it.

BJ, as usual, read his thoughts far too clearly. "You don't have to be nervous, John. You know he's been waiting for the chance. He'll be good to you. You'll see."

Trapper sat up and pulled his shorts back on, torn between relief and the persistent ache of wanting - the blame for which fell squarely on BJ Hunnicutt's stacked shoulders. He'd never wanted more than what he had with Hawkeye, never felt so fiercely /empty/ it could almost be called loneliness.

It wasn't that he was in love with BJ. It was that he'd introduced a problem. And Trapper was fairly sure he was the only one who could fix it.

*

Hawkeye came back from Seoul to find both his bunkmates passed out on their cots, still in blood-streaked scrubs. Trapper still had one boot on. Hawkeye dropped his bags and immediately went in search of Col Potter.

"What happened?" he asked as he barged past Radar, the question aimed half at the clerk and half through the door. 

"We got ambushed," came Potter's voice on the heels of Radar's not-quite-echo. The colonel looked up and gave Radar a wave off, then gestured to Hawkeye to sit down.

"Ambushed?!" Hawkeye exclaimed, dropping into the chair and leaning forward. Potter - still in his own scrubs - sighed and rubbed his head. 

"We had it handled. You know since Burns left, BJ's done more than take up the slack," he said defensively. "There was no reason to send for you."

"But I'm your best surgeon," Hawkeye protested. Potter raised an eyebrow and slammed a hand down on his desk blotter. 

"I've got three top-flight crackerjack cutters in this outfit - not to mention my own two hands," he barked. "You needed a rest, and by golly, you were going to get one! And look at you - you look like you've gotten more sleep in the last two days than you had in the last two months."

"Accurate as that may be," Hawkeye fired back, "I'm not the kind of person who sits around in the lap of Korean luxury while the rest of you are under fire. That's not - it's not how we - I _belong_ with you guys," he finished quietly. 

Potter nodded and rubbed his eyes under his glasses. "Pierce, you remember about a month ago, you went up to Battalion Aid when BJ was on leave?"

"What's that got to do with anything?"

Potter took a long look out the tent window in the direction of the Swamp, and then looked back at Hawkeye. When he spoke, his voice was so low Hawkeye could barely hear him.

"You think either of 'em wouldn't take a bullet for you on a good day?"

There wasn't anything left to say. Hawkeye left Potter's office in silence. He headed for the scrub room and grabbed a few towels, throwing some over one shoulder and wetting the others in the scrub sink. 

BJ and Trapper were exactly where he'd left them. Hawkeye eased his way around the stove to BJ's cot, and gently worked him out of his scrub pants. BJ started to wake when he lifted him to get the back of his shirt up, but Hawkeye just whispered, "Shhh. Sleep. I've got you." BJ mumbled a hello and flopped over, now just in his boxer shorts. Hawkeye smiled, bringing one of the damp towels to the back of his neck, then under his arms, and dried him off softly.

Across the tent, he did the same for Trapper, starting with his boot, and finishing with him. Trapper, always a sound sleeper, didn't wake except to try and shake Hawkeye's hand away once or twice. He left his gifts - a tailored shirt for BJ, and a new watch band for Trapper - on their bedside tables. And then, unable to help himself, he pressed a light kiss to Trapper's forehead, taking a moment to breathe him in.

It surprised him when Trapper stirred, and even more so when he mumbled, "Mother always used to kiss my head to see if I had a fever."

Hawkeye grinned. "Well, you're cool as a cucumber now," he murmured. "Go back to sleep."

" 'Kay." Trapper rolled over as Hawkeye made his way back to his own cot and sat down, unlacing his boots and shedding the less comfortable parts of his Class A's.

*

Hawkeye was writing a letter to his father when BJ woke up, came across the tent, and did his best to stretch out languidly next to Hawkeye without kicking him right off the cot. Hawkeye put his pen and paper down and curled up, laying one leg across BJ's backside. 

"Sleep good?" he asked, wrapping a finger in BJ's hair and curling it. 

"Mmm," BJ answered. "Coulda used another ten or twelve hours, but I'd rather be up with you," he said, muffling his words into Hawkeye's shoulder. Hawkeye leaned over and managed to kiss the top of his ear.

"Have any fun while I was gone?" he asked, with a little trepidation. There was always some part of him that would live in the nightmare of him coming home to find the two of them no longer wanting him. BJ paused, then gave a little shrug.

"We...almost did," he said, dropping his voice to a whisper. "He wants more, but he gets spooked. I tried to help him through it, but..." BJ trailed off, his fingers playing at the edge of Hawkeye's waistband. "I think you're going to have to be the one to do it."

"Do what?"

BJ rolled his eyes. "Do _him_."

"Oh, no - noooo no no no no," Hawkeye whispered. "That's not how it goes, with us. It never has. He doesn't - he doesn't take it like that."

BJ raised an eyebrow and lifted himself up on one elbow. "I'm telling you, Hawk. He wants it. Bad. And I think he wants it to be you. I couldn't get him to relax enough. But he's definitely scared."

Hawkeye dropped his head and let the idea sink in. His cock stirred at the image, John with his legs wide, the faintest sign of nervousness in his face, and Hawkeye easing him open, touching him, telling him it was all going to be okay. 

"Oh yeah," BJ purred, the grin evident in his voice. "You like that idea. Well, so do I."

*

BJ fell back to sleep in short order, leaving Hawkeye with an ache and too many ideas. He squirmed his way out of the cot, BJ's limbs heavy and tempting, and took a seat in the dentist's chair thinking he'd continue the letter he started.

_Dear Dad,  
I just got back from Seoul; check the mail in six months and you might find a gift I saw at a street market which immediately made me think of you. I came back to camp to find that there'd been an onslaught in my absence, and everyone's wiped. I think I'm starting to understand why you never left Crabapple Cove - as much as I can't wait to get out of here, the only thing worse is the thought of leaving people who need me behind._

Hawkeye put his letter down and headed over to BJ's unoccupied cot. This idea wasn't the sort that could be distracted away. He crawled into bed, and lay on his back with his knees up, offering his cock a reassuring squeeze through his shorts. Damn. Trapper? Really? His cock twitched in his shorts as he ran his palm over the bulge, his mind filling in a thousand little pieces: the sound of Trapper's breath coming short, the way he grunted when he stretched Hawkeye open, and one very tiny memory of the first time Hawk went to his knees for him, Trapper clutching his shoulders and emitting the tiniest whimper when Hawk's tongue reached him.

The cot creaked under his weight, but he didn't care. He thought of Trapper lying in bed and waiting for him, his overbite smile, fabricated the sound of him saying, "Put it in me, Hawk, lemme feel ya," it felt so good he thought he'd explode all over BJ's sheets. 

BJ'd be pissed. Not because of the mess, but because he didn't like to clean up messes he didn't make.

Hawkeye grinned and slowed his strokes, not even hearing the footsteps coming across the tent.

"Whatcha thinkin' about?" 

Trapper's soft drawl startled Hawkeye out of his reverie. He flattened his legs and rolled on his side, somehow inexplicably embarrassed. "Nothing," he muttered. "Just, ah, decompressing after a long trip. How're - uh - how're you doing, Trap?" 

Trapper leaned against the clipboard bar and smirked. "Who, me? I'm doin' great. Got 40 hours of surgery done...a nice little nap...wake up to find somebody's left me a present...or two," he added, looking pointedly towards Hawkeye's crotch.

Hawkeye blushed. "Oh yeah? You think I've got something for you?"

Trapper came around the side of the bed and sat on an upturned bucket. He slipped one hand under the blanket; Hawkeye noticed the new watch band already on his wrist. Trapper slid a hand down his stomach and found Hawkeye's hand curled around his erection. Undeterred, he simply squeezed his hand over Hawkeye's and forced a stroke. Hawkeye's eyelids fluttered, then closed, his mouth falling open.

"I think you do," John whispered, continuing. "I think you wanted me to come over here and make a mess of Hunnicutt's bed with ya. Isn't that right?"

Hawkeye stammered and scrambled for words. "I, uh - _fuck_ , Trap - I"

"You what?" Trapper asked innocently.

"I missed you, you fucker."

Trapper melted into another smile. "Yeah. Me too. Now let me in so I can show you how much."

Hawkeye sat up and moved to get off the cot. "Nice try, but I remember warning you to play nice with BJ." The blush that answered him caught him so off guard he almost started to laugh.

"Trapper? Did you and BJ?" Hawkeye clapped a hand over his mouth as John ducked his head and pulled his hand away. "No," Hawkeye said, trying to reassure him, standing up and pulling Trapper into his arms, "don't deny it. You two had some fun while I was out?"

Trapper mumbled something into his shoulder.

"I didn't heeeeeear you."

Trapper put his lips directly against Hawkeye's ear so that even a whisper would make him wince. "It wasn't. exactly. fun."

Hawkeye sobered instantly, pulling away and looking Trapper in the eye. _You okay?_ he asked wordlessly, face full of concern. Trapper shrugged. Hawkeye tightened his grip on Trapper, feeling something fierce and protective boiling up his chest. He dropped his voice to near-silence, but his expression was shouting. "Did he hurt you?"

Trapper shook his head quickly, and Hawkeye took a long breath. 

"C'mon," Trapper said. "Put your pants back on. Let's go, uh - " he jerked his head in the vague direction of the Quonset hut at the edge of camp. Hawkeye nodded.

"And I get the full story there?"

"Uh, yeah," Trapper said, trying to shut down the nerves that threatened to overtake him. "Yeah, we'll talk."

It took awhile to get to the edge of camp; they'd forgotten about dinner, and got steered into the mess tent on their way. They stayed just long enough to make a few wisecracks about the food, and then Trapper left, saying something about Post-Op, and Hawkeye followed barely a minute later, saying something about unpacking.

Trapper was already inside by the time Hawkeye circled back to the Swamp and out to the Quonset hut. In the dark, Trapper relaxed some. Hawkeye knocked tentatively, feeling his way inside. Trapper turned on a flashlight and aimed it toward the wall, letting it throw just enough light to see and cast shadows.

Hawkeye barred the door and sat down next to him on the cot. "Will you just tell me what happened?" he asked, agitated. Trapper gestured vaguely, trying to come up with the words, and gave up, turning instead to kiss Hawkeye more slowly and thoroughly than he'd had a chance to in quite some time.

Hawkeye sank into the kiss, remembering exactly how hungry he could be for Trapper, eyes closed, a hand wrapped in Trap's curls before he even realized he was moving. Trapper sought him out, tongue darting and exploring, making Hawkeye open further for him. Hawkeye moaned.

"Trap," he whispered hoarsely, "You gotta tell me. I'm going crazy here."

"Just let me - " Trapper started and then suddenly roughly shoved Hawkeye down. Only the reinforcements they'd built under the cot over the last year kept the bed from collapsing beneath them. Trapper crawled between Hawkeye's legs, leaned over him, cupped his hands under Hawkeye's head. He rolled his hips forward, not even hard, not even seeking anything, just wanting to _show_ Hawkeye, just wanting him to understand - 

"Trapper, this isn't talking." Hawkeye struggled and pushed at Trapper's chest, wrestling him off. For once, Trapper let him win. Before Hawkeye realized it, he'd managed to pin Trap to the bed, which left almost confused with delight. He'd never won a wrestling match off Trap.

"Got you!" he crowed, forgetting, for a minute, that he was supposed to be getting information.

"Exactly," Trapper whispered.

"Exactly what?"

"What I was tryin'a tell you."

Hawkeye leaned over Trapper exactly the way Trap had leaned over him moments before. "What were you trying to tell me?" he asked as gently as he could.

Trapper squirmed, closing his eyes before getting the words out. "That I wanted to, uh - to try it like this. With you, uh - and me, like - "

Understanding slowly crept over Hawkeye's features until he looked like he might burst into tears. He wrapped Trapper in the tightest embrace he could manage with Trapper on his back and rocked against him for a moment, whispering, "Oh, _Trap_. Yeah. Yeah, I've got you. We can do that. We can try that."

He felt Trapper lift his hips up and wrap his legs around Hawkeye's waist, and the images from earlier came flooding back, stirring and electrifying. Hawk ground his hips down, truly seeking friction this time, so enraptured at the idea he hardly needed the practicalities.

He lowered his head and kissed Trapper the way he'd always wanted to kiss Trapper - more slow and deep than Trap had ever had the patience or the confidence for, savoring the way he squirmed underneath him when Hawkeye caught his bottom lip between his teeth. 

"Hawk," Trapper whined, twisting his head away, making it that much easier for Hawkeye to suck a bruise just below his collarbone. "Come _on_ , get to it."

Hawkeye chuckled, a low, dark laugh. "Get to it? No, Trap, there is no getting to it. This _is_ 'it.' Or at least the beginning of it anyway." He sat up, pulling Trapper with him, grasping at the hem of his shirt and working it over his head before throwing him back down. "'It' is doing it _my_ way. Or did you not want me to have my way with you?" He couldn't escape a snicker at his own cleverness; some things never changed.

"The longer you go, the longer I have a chance to rethink this," Trapper warned. Hawkeye responded by maneuvering his knees to the outside of Trapper's thighs, squeezing together, and pinning his wrists over his head. 

"Think all you want," he said mildly. "But it's not going to stop me from giving you what you asked for."


	9. Chapter 9

Trapper looked terrified for a moment. Hawkeye leaned over him, bending his head down until his lips were just at Trapper's ear. 

"You have no idea," he whispered, "how much I've wanted this. How badly I wanted to show you how good you made me feel."

He felt Trapper start to relax beneath him. Hawkeye ground his hips against Trapper's and continued, still holding his wrists over his head. "You want to know what I was thinking about before? I was thinking about this. About you, all open and wanting me. About being -" he swallowed and took a quick breath for courage," - inside you."

Beneath him, Trapper shuddered and whimpered with something between arousal and shame. Hawkeye stroked his thumb along the inside of Trapper's pinned wrist. "Just like that. I want to hear what you sound like."

"With a stick up my ass?" Trapper joked, finally finding his voice. Hawkeye laughed. 

"That, I already know. No, I want to know what you sound like when you're completely...filled," he said, relishing the way John's hips canted up ever so slightly.

Trapper nodded. "Okay. Okay." He sounded a little dazed and breathless; Hawkeye sprang into action, divesting them both of their boots, jackets and pants. He worked Trapper's shorts down over his knees and grabbed the box he'd showed BJ weeks prior. 

"Gonna use a glove," he muttered, "but someday, Trap, someday when we're in civilization, with running water close by, I'm gonna touch every inch of you with my bare hands." Trapper winced at the familiar sound of the glove stretching over Hawkeye's hand, his mind running to proctology exams and surgery. But then, that gloved hand slipped between his cheeks, probing with a firm, but gentle touch. He heard the familiar squelch of lubricant, and then Hawkeye warning him about the cold, and then - Hawkeye nudged him, slipping his shoulder into the crook of John's knee and pushing until he was nearly bent in half.

"That's it," Hawkeye crooned, spreading lube and rubbing him ever so lightly. Trapper closed his eyes and tried to breathe, trying not to think about the fact that if anyone walked in, they'd find him on his back with his legs in the air, all exposed and - 

his breath all came out in a rush as Hawkeye pushed a slow finger inside him, and then a gasp, and then another. Hawkeye put his free hand on his chest, trying to calm him down.

"Easy, Trap," he said. "C'mere." He took one of John's hands - right, hands, he had hands - and guided it to his cock. "It'll help," he promised. "Besides, you know how much I like to watch."

John tugged at his semi-hard cock with a little trepidation, wondering if now, of all times, his reliable body would finally fail him. When it didn't, the relief was palpable. 

"Yeah, that's it," Hawkeye said, leering just enough to make Trapper feel a little more in control. Even on his back, he could still take Hawk apart. "You know, the only regret I have about doing this is not being able to feel you inside me at the same time."

Trapper groaned and picked up the pace as Hawkeye worked a second finger into him, slowly, with care. "Just like that," Hawkeye said, marveling at the sight. "Don't come too soon, Trap, I want you to enjoy this."

Trapper took a moment to consider whether or not the avalanche of feelings he was currently trying to keep at bay counted as enjoyment.

It felt like hours, or seconds, before Hawkeye slowly slipped his fingers out. Trapper let out a sound he didn't think himself capable of, feeling at once relieved and so painfully empty it was almost loneliness. Hawkeye murmured something soft and understanding, kissed Trapper's knee as he brought his legs down for a minute, letting him rest and relax his hips as he rifled through the box for more supplies. Trapper didn't speak. He was entirely too uncertain of what might come out if he opened his mouth.

Then Hawkeye was back between his legs again, pushing Trap's knees up to his chest, lining himself and - Trapper froze as he felt Hawkeye pressing against him, slick and smooth and determined. 

"Open your mouth," Hawkeye told him, and it wasn't a plea or a suggestion. Trapper hesitated; Hawkeye reached over and tapped two fingers at his clenched lips, working them in when John didn't obey. "It helps. Open your mouth, Trap, c'mon."

Not that he had much of a choice, Trapper thought, letting Hawkeye slide his fingers over his tongue. As he did, his jaw relaxed, and so did some of his muscles. He felt Hawkeye stretch him open, shutting his eyes and sucking fiercely at the fingers in his mouth in an effort not to bite.

"Oh, Gd," Hawkeye breathed. "Easy, easy, I've got you, it's okay - it's okay, oh _fuck_ , you feel - you feel so good. Are you okay? Does it hurt?"

Trapper nodded, then shook his head, then reached up to tug Hawkeye's fingers out of his mouth. 

"Kiss me," he said, so softly it was hardly more than mouthing it, but Hawkeye understood and bent low. The kisses were familiar, at least, and before he knew it, Hawkeye was halfway buried in him, grunting into his mouth, sweat building between them. John felt something like tears prickling behind his eyes - not sad, or happy, but something bigger and unnameable. 

Hawkeye pulled back and gave a tiny thrust, causing Trapper to gasp and moan. 

"Too much?" he asked quickly. Trap shook his head again. Hawkeye give his hips another experimental thrust. "Yessss," he said as Trapper twitched involuntarily, surprise overtaking his face. "Hit something good?"

Trapper nodded frantically, lifting his hips and praying it hadn't been an accident. Hawkeye grinned wolfishly and did it again.

It was not an accident.

"Fuck!" he burst out, half sitting up and wrapping his legs around Hawkeye's hips in an attempt to urge him on. "Do that again - again - again - aw, fuck," he gasped, throwing his head back and breathing hard as he got closer and closer. "Touch me," he begged. "I'm so close."

"Gonna have to do that yourself," Hawkeye replied, not breaking his rhythm. "My hands are tied - they're holding me up." 

"Weakling," John teased, reaching between them to take his cock in hand. "Oh, _fuck_. Are ya close, Hawk? Tell me you're close, I want - "

Hawkeye nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, do it. Come on, Trap. Lemme see - "

Trapper interrupted him with a moan. It wasn't going to be long now - he stroked as fast as he dared, feeling Hawkeye's stomach against his knuckles and then he was coming apart, Hawkeye's voice chasing him as he went - " - yes, Trap, yes, oh fuck, this is what I always wanted - " and then a long and wordless series of cries and pauses as he followed.


End file.
